


Reason To Believe

by ilky



Category: Kamen Rider Gaim
Genre: M/M, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-26 09:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3845935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilky/pseuds/ilky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sengoku Ryouma is a realist, only believes in fact and reality. He has never achieved things by relying on luck, never skipped the sidewalk cracks nor made wishes on falling stars. Monsters and ghosts were far fetched stories. Until he is moved into a family home, the last house on the street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

The room temperature is bone-chilling, so cold you can see your breath. The ceiling light keeps flickering and the bed every so often bumps off the floor. It feels like it’s been hours passed, though it was only 60 minutes, still imitating a life time. The whispers haven’t stopped, the laughing gets louder, and the door locked.

Ryouma shivers in the corner of the room, arms locked tight around his legs in a crouched position, back against the wall. It’s the only safe part of the room. He tried getting to the door, twice, only for the unseen force to drag him back by holding his ankles. He had stopped crying 10 minutes ago.

He wiped under his nose and looked at the door once again. The window was out of the question, no siding or ledge for him to hold onto, plus the thing could push him out, and he could die. He always had a bad feeling about the room.

It laughed again, a deep tormented laugh that echoed in his ears and made him hold his breath. He wanted to laugh too, because it was so unexplainable to him, something he couldn’t figure out, not a puzzle to solve. He could see the sun outside behind the curtain, and people were going on with their lives and he was stuck here, in this room. No one would notice if he died, and he felt pity for himself knowing he would die alone.

He would die a tormented being, locked in this room with the thing, the being, the spirit.

He shivered again a little more violent this time, followed with a sob falling out of his mouth. And it laughed at that. “Let me out!” He cried at nothing, he couldn’t look at nothing, there wasn’t anything to see. “Please help me,” he then let out a quite sob into his forearm, the last of his soul begging for hope, and wanting someone to save him.

“Ryouma! Ryouma can you hear me?” Jolted from his despair, Ryouma looked at the door, listening again. “Ryouma it’s me! Takatora!” The man shouted. “Open the door!”

Ryouma had forgotten about the fear, his instincts telling him to stand and run for the exit. “Takatora! Takatora help me!” Ryouma had started banging on the door back, the knob still wouldn’t budge. “Unlock the door Ryouma,” Takatora had stopped shouting, though his voice was still loud. Ryouma tried again, turning and pulling with his might. He started to cry again, “I can’t, it locked me in Takatora I can’t get out. Please help me,” he spoke through tears.

“It’s going to be okay Ryouma, listen to me, just be calm and listen to me. I’m going to try and break down the door. I’m going to get you out,” Takatora explained loud and clear.

“Okay,” Ryouma said, but he was still holding onto the door knob.

“On the count to three, Ryouma,” Ryouma heard but the fear was back now, and the chills multiplied ten fold. Ryouma started to panic.

“Takatora help! It’s coming for me, now! Takatora!”


	2. Chapter 1

“Down the street Sir?” Ryouma looks away from the window when the driver speaks. Ryouma answers with “yes,” and nods at the driver when their eyes meet in the rear view mirror, affirming his answer.

He returns his gaze to the window as dozens of houses go by, the spaces between the houses get larger the farther the drive goes. Soon there are fences between the homes and less flowers and plants. The taxi car stops and Ryouma recites in his head that it has been exactly 57 minutes since the trip from the airport to his new home.

“Alright Sir, need help carrying the bags?” The driver is quite friendly but he didn't involve Ryouma in any small talk, so the drive was quiet with soft music playing from the radio. Ryouma shakes his head and pulls out his wallet, giving the driver some extra Yen for the troubles, “keep the change.”

“Ah, thank you Sir,” the driver, surprised with the amount he had received, is quick to get out of the taxi before Ryouma does to retrieve the baggage in the trunk.

Ryouma steps out hoisting his shoulder bag, stretching for a moment. The driver bids his farewell and gratitude again while Ryouma pays it no attention. It was moments with other humans like that that bothered him. He gathers his luggage and starts up the pathway to the front door. Constructed with traditional designs yet still modern, like most of the homes in Tokyo. He starts up the pathway to the front door.

Struggling with his own luggage, he makes it to the front door. He feels a moment of apprehensiveness towards the house, but he chalks it up to the fatigue from traveling and turned the key. It is cool inside the house and so quiet he can't hear the birds outside. The interior of the house is plain, painted with off-white walls and dark wood framing. The dining area is the first room to welcome.

He asked for a lab, but the company had denied he needed such a thing, the dining area would be the perfect place they made sure. He sighed at the room. The house had aged once he toed off of his shoes and stepped towards the dining area, the wood creaking underneath his feet. 

He set his shoulder bag onto the table, impressed with the basic furniture that was already set up by the company for the year or so. His contract said a year, but he knew he never needed a year for projects such as these, he was never late with experiments nor inaccurate. He was the best the company had.

He then decides to explore more of the house, just to examine the exact square inches and temperatures of every room. The kitchen is small, like most houses, with cheap counter tops and middle class appliances, but he didn't mind. He never ate.

He discovers a back door which is a bit of a problem in Ryouma’s already set up mathematics for the house, setting him back a few equations. When he slides it open, there is a delightful a pond with rocks framed around it and traces of a garden. A typical but not unappreciated Japanese style. The sun hits the back just right, with shadows in the right places. Now he didn’t know a thing about art or cared for it, but anyone would think this was a beautiful sight. He checks his watch to remember the exact time of day of when the sun is out in this spot.

The pond was dry but he can request for it to attended with water later, he needed a garden as well. “I figure I should pick my room,” he speaks to himself and nods at the back, sliding the door shut and heading to the staircase.

One of his suitcases had tipped over, strange that he didn’t hear the sound. He paid it no attention once he lifted them both in each hand, careful of traveling up the steps so he didn’t fall backwards. There were been three bedrooms, one bathroom and a half, one of the rooms was bigger than the other two, but one had more power outlets. He had read this in the description given to him by the company, it was the biggest they could offer. 

He choose the largest room at the end of the hallway, next to the bathroom. There were no pictures on the walls, nor any plants on end tables. He set himself up in the bedroom, indifferent when there was a TV set up. He shrugged at the room and went to the window to reveal more sunlight into the area.

He went to inspect the other rooms at the opposite end of the hallway as both were parallel to each other. He chose the room on the left first, thoroughly surprised when his technology had been set up before hand. A few desks with computers and scanners and other sorts that he needed for research, he smirked. He turned to the other room and felt a bit of resistance. A feeling he took apart in his mind a few times before grabbing the door knob, still feeling out of place. He concluded it back to feeling tired from his travel earlier and let go of the door knob. He created a mental note to check it later when he had settled completely.

He went back to the initial bedroom he chose, still feeling a bit of regret from holding the doorknob. Instead he shook his head to ignore the feeling and began to unpack his clothes.

 

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

 

“Kureshima Takatora, please rise,” the voice is powerful as it echoes in the main hall, the head of the council speaks.

The person in celebration stands on both legs, head still bowed in respect. “Please accept this medallion,” the Grand Bishop speaks as he approaches Takatora with a gold medal in hand. The Grand Bishop is silent as he awards the exorcist, the Kureshima lowers his head as the medallion hangs heavy around his neck. "You did well my son," The Grand Bishop whispers and turns away.

Takatora lifts his head and looks at nothing. “Witness this exorcists, bishops, and generals alike. This man here has proven his worth, proven that good and faith triumph over evil. He is alive here today to give hope. I know everyone in this hall faces the most challenging and life threatening missions we set you upon. Some of you may feel you will never see the light. And some, lose their lives. Learn from this man, so the Red Order will never lose another soul, please rise for Kureshima Takatora and let us pray.”

Takatora bows his head but he doesn’t join in on the choir of the ceremonial prayer. Instead he thinks of where to go from here, where he wants to go, not before visiting the graves. He can feels the eyes of the bishops who feel hatred for him and he can feel the eyes of the people who felt jealousy. They are praying but yet they look at him with disgust; he still stands there, not proud but not defeated.

The prayer soon ends and followed is a moment of silence for the dead. “Takatora, you have made us proud,” the Grand Bishop says with a look of sincerity. Takatora bows once more but tunes out for the rest of the ceremony.

 

A while later, there is a dinner held for his “success” but he does not care to go, nor mingle with the other exorcists, they hate him anyway. Instead he meets with General Acciai, a man who takes a liking to the Kureshima, in a father-son sort of way. Takatora sits low in the seat, the office is some what small for a General in his age. “Well Takatora, Bishop Adessi has informed me that you get a vacation as your reward,” the general says as he enters his office. In the back of Takatora’s mind he frowns at the name ‘Bishop Adessi’. 

“For how long?” He asks while lighting up a cigarette, the general lights one up too.

“They’re giving you eight months? Not that I had anything to do with it,” the general winks and laughs at Takatora’s expression. Eight months? That long?

“They’re letting you choose where’d you like to go, if you want to travel or stay. If I were you, I’d go somewhere tropical, the Bahamas,” General Acciai quips, taking a long drag.

The Kureshima shakes his head, “that’s the last place I’d want to go, remember the Siren?”

“Ah yes, pesky bitch wasn’t it?” The old man laughs which leads to a cough.

Takatora ponders for a while, overwhelmed with such a gift but grateful and he was going to take advantage of it. “I want to go home General, I want to go to Tokyo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO i made up a lot of stuff lol but don't worry i know what i'm doing~~~


	3. Chapter 2

The flight wasn’t as long as he thought, or maybe he was too busy in his head to think about the travel to home. Tokyo wasn’t his birthplace, but his family had moved there when he was young. He missed feeling of being familiar and fitting in, the language and the culture. He had been in Italy and elsewhere for so long, he wondered if his Japanese was still native.

He makes a list eating at his favorite restaurants, to walk in the parks, to sit with the cherry blossoms’ first bloom. The sad part of coming home was not knowing if anyone was waiting for him; most of his family had been long gone or moved away.

“Sir? We’ve landed,” Takatora realizes that the plane is almost empty and that indeed they have landed at Haneda airport.

Takatora mutters his thanks in blocky syllables and bows. It’s been so long since he’s used such customs. But the language comes almost natural and it feels so good.

_“What? You want to go home? Takatora there are so many other places you could go to,” General Acciai puts out his cigarette to focus on the Kureshima. Five minutes later he lights up another one. “Why Tokyo?”_

_Takatora shrugs, “I just want to go home for a while.”_

_“But no one is there for you, you’ll be by yourself. We still have no support from the Gold Order,” the general is now leaning on his desk, taking loud drags of his cigarette. It's cleared he's stressed._

_“I know, but, I just haven’t been there in so long, and maybe I can meet with the Gold Order, speak with them myself. You know my being there would help us here. I am part Japanese after all,” Takatora explains. But he has no such intentions to meet with the Gold Order, they severed their ties with his family long ago._

_General Acciai sighs, scratching his brow with his thumb and then takes a another drag, the cigarette almost done. “If you insist, Takatora. I’ll make your arrangements, set you up in a house since it’s going to be a while before you’re back here.”_

_“Thank you General,” Takatora stands up to salute the old man._

They had a rather emotional farewell, most of it on the general’s part. He had his brow furrowed the entire time, but his words were of warmth. Takatora would have loved to have this man as his father, General Acciai had taken up that role for most of the Kureshima’s life anyway. “You take good care of yourself, don’t smoke too much. The house is cleansed and protected, I had made sure of that.” 

Takatora is lonely, the general would have really liked to visit Tokyo as well. His small smile is sad as he retrieves one suitcase, the rest of his belongings still in Italy. The general also made sure Takatora would never need money. “Where to Sir?”

Takatora’s Japanese is still foreign when he tells the address to the taxi driver. The driver gives him a clear look of ‘you’re a foreigner?’

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“This doesn’t make sense, this is has to be the right solution,” Ryouma grumbles. He set up his lab in the dining area, experimenting and running tests. The company had given him a large document about the plants that naturally grew in Tokyo and the ones that were imported. The company had given him two weeks to get through the document, but it had only taken a day. Now he has moved onto the plants within his area.

The company had informed him that they would be delivering the imports as soon as possible. In other words that meant ‘we can’t move as fast as you, please be patient’. He huffs when the small leaf deteriorates right before his eyes, his solution failing again. He mulls over the ingredients and the order he put them in. The plants here obviously needing their own solutions and that was going to take some time.

He pulls off his gloves and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, feeling dehydrated. Ryouma always hated taking breaks, never knew why his body would need such a thing. He didn’t want to risk fainting or falling asleep though when he had a Bunsen burner going. He was quick to look at it once reminded, but it was turned off and he could have sworn that he lit it earlier. When his eyes begin to strain, he shakes his head and huffs again. “Why must I eat?”

He frowns greatly, irritated with his progress. He stomps toward the kitchen, taking off his glasses and leaving them on the counter. He had to make a note of convincing the company to get him an IV so he could work and stay competent till he figured something out. The human life span was never enough for science. Humans needed to sleep, to eat, to talk, to read, to find meaning in their lives. He was so tired of being human.

He takes a clear glass and fills it with water, his body responding to some nourishment. Okay maybe he was a bit too cruel to his own organism structure, but his research was so important.

He then ponders over what little bit of food he can eat to get him through the next 10 hours or so. Mindful of keeping away from coffee or caffeine in general after last year’s incident. Not sleeping for 4 days and almost going into cardiac arrest. He shook his head at himself.

He puts down the glass on a nearby counter then reaches for his glasses, his missing glasses. He lifts a brow in confusion, “I could have sworn…” he trails off and looks to the make shift lab in the dining area. He takes a step forward to see if he pulled them off before getting a drink of water, and right under his foot, there’s a crunch.

He closes his eyes at the familiar sound, counts from ten, opens his eyes and looks down. He removes his right foot and there are his glasses, broken. He sighs but in the back of his mind he wonders why he didn’t hear the noise of them hitting the floor when they fell.


	4. Chapter 4

_“Run, Takatora, run,” his young mother is locked away as she commands the small boy in a soft voice._

_He whimpers “mommy.”_

_“Run, go outside, mommy will be alright,” her voice is still soft. There’s an dark laugh behind the door with her._

_“Mommy please come out, I’m scared,” the child starts to whimper more, cheeks wet with tears._

_There’s a scream that stuns Takatora in place, he starts to bang on the door. “Mommy come out, please!”_

_“Run Takatora, go now!” His mother shouts. “You stay away from him!” She’s yelling at something else._

_“No,” he cries, “mommy.”_

_He doesn’t remember what happens next aside from being torn away from the door knob he held onto. Being carried away, screaming for his mother and the next moment the house is on fire. “Mommy…”_

Takatora wakes up in a sweat and letting out a breath he was holding in. He quickly sits up to check his surroundings, sighing in relief and wiping the sweat off his forehead. He fell asleep in the living room area, lounging and sipping on expensive sake.

He settled into the house a few days ago, the nature of it coming to him without fault. It was so familiar to him here, he was considering transferring to the Gold Order just to stay in Japan longer. But he would never want to leave the general, it was bad enough he had to spend eight months away from the old man.

He lights up a cigarette to ease his nerves and decides to eat something. It might have been morning, maybe afternoon. There’s a window he can look out in the kitchen to see a view of the neighbouring house. Not much a view. Not much in fact.

He hadn’t done anything in the past few days, only walking a short distance to the corner store to get packaged food and beer to pass time. He was rather shy of traveling Tokyo alone, no companion to see the sights with. It had been such a long time since he wandered the streets. If he did go to certain spots, maybe he’d meet a nice girl. Or guy. Didn't matter.

He feels a little depressed from being alone. Did he really want to be here by himself for eight months? Drinking and smoking all by his lonesome? What if he couldn’t make friends, what if he ended up hating Tokyo? He shakes his head, flicking the ashes into the sink, he could always talk to the neighbours, he was going to be here for a while.

He goes into the fridge and grabs a bottle of water, also grabbing his pack of smokes. He wants to sit outside for a while. The back is constructed like typical Japanese gardens, complete with a Engawa for him to sit and maybe nap on. The sun is shining high and his skin warms underneath it. The neighbour on his left is outside as well, a girl chatting away. Maybe on her phone? He can’t see her but doesn’t try too. He looks to his right, nothing to see. He doesn’t know if someone is staying there, he never sees or hears anything. 

Just then he spots a tall figure stalk out of the house and stands on the Engawa like Takatora’s. A man, with long hair tied away in a tail, casual clothing and he looks troubled.

The man is biting his thumb nail, talking to himself? The man turns his head and they make eye contact, sensing Takatora’s observing stare. Takatora gives a slight wave as a greeting but the man just looks at him with an irritated expression. Nods his head at Takatora and goes back into his house. Takatora raises his brows and then shrugs it off, his neighbour is a dick.


	5. Chapter 4

Ryouma wasn’t having the best morning. He had an encounter with the new neighbour, who seemed normal. Though his character from their brief moment seemed far too casual to be able to afford such a house. The scientist paid it no mind, he wasn’t there to socialize with the neighbours. Even if some of them had already rung the bell to greet him. There was a girl who seemed nice, third house from his home.

Aside from his glasses breaking, his burner keep dying out and it frustrated him to no end. He made sure it had butane before and after it was used. He couldn’t tweak his solutions, the ingredients were always misplaced or missing when he needed them. Some even emptied. And there was no way he did this, or could he? That was even more difficult to understand. Was he going mad? He did read up on the psychology of humans being “cooped up too long” but he didn’t believe a theory such as that could affect him. He locked himself up in labs for weeks on end before and he was fine. Within his terms.

Was he inside too much? Did he need to leave once in a while? Take breaks? Was his age catching up or did he not meet the requirements of a balanced diet? There were far too many questions and far too many equations for him to answer.

Currently he was laying in bed, feeling the effects of staying awake for the past few days. He would only need a handful of hours of sleep but since relocating to this house, being tired was a constant. Was he going mad? It was exactly thirteen days since moving in, ten in the morning, fifth day of the week. No he was fine. Was his sub conscience going mad? Had he been purposely misplacing and dumping contents into the sink?

He rolled onto his side to look out the window, the sun peeking through the curtains. What was Tokyo like, should he explore, should he take a chance and break? So many unsolved questions within thirteen days. His stomach is starting to hurt from lack of food and it’s so annoying to him to eat. The company denied him an IV drip.

He gets up and stretches his arms, the muscles in his back strained, his eyelids still feel heavy. Maybe he should shower later on in the day, it had been five days since his last cleaning. That was annoying too, always having to keep his body clean. He made a note of inventing a dry shower.

The house always had a chill to it. Not because of his chemicals that required a certain temperature; his initial arrival to the house was cold. He had to put on slippers since the floor felt like ice. Leaving his room, there was sudden knocking, not at the front door, but in one of the rooms. The computer room was always open, he had the door taken off last week since it became a nuisance. The room opposite to it was always closed. He always kept it shut, a reason he didn’t bother to figure out. He knew what was in there, a bed with a plain desk in the corner, window to the back garden. It was just a plain room he had no use for, but now it sounded like that was where the knocking was coming from.

He stood still for a moment before opening the door, maybe it was a burglar? This time of day? He shook his head and opened it. The knocking stopped, which confused him, but it was soon forgotten when he saw that the window had been wide open. He cursed and went towards it, sliding it shut and locking it. His mood was foul as he swore leaving the room, so infuriated that the window was open. He slammed the door behind him.

When he was downstairs in the kitchen, his mood changed, the anger he felt was disappearing. What was he mad about anyway? He shrugged to himself, checking the fridge to see if he had anymore food. Which he didn’t of course and he sighed. “I guess I have to go shop for myself,” he said out loud. He looked at his stomach, willing the pain away, ‘just for a few hours’ he thought. He got a glass of water to subside the pains and decided to shower, almost happy that the company had provided him with a car. Traveling wasn’t going to be a hassle and it made the trip more likely. He drank the whole glass of water and made his way to the stairs, he paused once he reached them with his hand on the wooden rail.

He doesn’t remember ever entering and opening the window in that room.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Takatora felt something bat at his nose. His eyes closed and he felt confused. He grunted and moved his head away from the strange feeling. He then opened his eyes to see where he was and sat up straight, an immediate reaction from working for the Red Order for so long. He could never be too careful. He examined his surroundings and realized that he was on the engawa in the back. He sagged his shoulders in relief and heard a meow behind him.

“Oh, what’s your name?” He speaks to the feline as he spins himself to face it, reaching out for the cat with his palm faced up. The cat looks at him, its fur is black with white on its front paws and speckled around its nose. He waits, “I’m not going to hurt you,” he beckons the cat in a soft voice.

It accepts Takatora’s hand, cautious of its approach to smell his finger tips, Takatora waits for it. The cat brushes against his waiting hand and he's happy to return its friendly affection. “You look too nice to be homeless,” he says as it gets closer to him. Takatora had always been fond of felines.

“You don’t have a tag, nor a tattoo, what’s your name?” He asks again, not finding it strange at all that he was talking to a cat. At least the it didn’t find his Japanese funny. It started to purr and crawled into his lap, Takatora felt comfort. He’d been lonely for the past few days, maybe a pet would keep him company.

“Ko? Ko-chan, where are you?” The cat raised its head from Takatora’s hand, looking into the direction of his neighbour. It jumped from his lap and was quick to his neighbour's yard. Though the fence was tall, Takatora watched as it jumped and climbed it effortlessly. He stood tall on the engawa as the girl’s voice was near, “oh there you are Ko.”

They made eye contact over the fence, she nodded at him and gathered the feline in her arms, he nodded back and she left. She had dark long hair, dark eyes and tanned skin. She was pretty. Takatora grinned to himself, an attractive friend wouldn’t hurt, and she owned a lovely cat.

He turned away and went into the house to grab his cigarettes, remembering he left them on an end table by the front door. He thought about the girl again. If she was in high school it wasn’t possible, he was a little too old for high school girls. Maybe in college? He hoped she was in college. She seemed shy, as she didn’t smile at him or verbally greet him. He exhaled and hoped he didn’t look like a creep or a pervert. Maybe he should introduce himself? He met the parents, maybe they were the parents, they were quite old. The Grandparents? They were nice and welcoming, and they did leave an open invitation for dinner sometime. 

Maybe he desperate for a friend, someone to help keep him company, maybe dating would be nice again. He would never find out unless he tried. He stepped into his indoor slippers and went out the front door, hoping to meet the girl.

The sun was still out, almost going down for the evening to begin. He heard grunting and cursing on his left and out of curiosity he looked to it. It was his neighbour, the cranky one with long hair. He was (trying to)carrying a lot of plastic and paper bags, too many for his arms to handle. Takatora immediately abandoned the idea of greeting the old couple out of instinct. “Hey do you need help?”

Ryouma was almost panting, his body teetering with all the bags he struggled to carry. He stopped when someone called after him. He turned his head to look and it was his new neighbour. He shook his head, “no thank you,” and he continued to the door. But one of the bags slipped out of his hold and landed on his foot.

He bit his lip to keep from cursing, hoping his neighbour wasn’t there. But he was of course, “here let me help.”

The new neighbour had dashed forward and picked up the fallen bag and relieved Ryouma of two paper bags. The scientist was grateful in that moment and led the way to the front door. Disappointed in himself for needing help, the scientist unlocked and opened the door. Stepping in to make room for his neighbour, he was grateful to an extent.

“You can put them on the floor, I can do the rest,” Ryouma said with a tired tone, disguising his frustration.

“Are you sure? I can help, I’m not busy,” the neighbour asked, Ryouma noted that he had a deep voice and it suited him. Ryouma was shy of his home in that moment and shook his head as he faced the man fully to block the view of his lab.

He grabbed the bags from his neighbour and placed them on the floor, “no I need something to do, it’s okay.”

“Alright,” he replied. Ryouma also registered in his head that this man’s Japanese was foreign, too unnatural to be natural. “I’m Takatora by the way.” He mentally raised his brow at the name.

Ryouma glanced at the out reached hand and then looked at his neighbour’s face, he went forward to accept the greeting. “Sengoku Ryouma.”

He watched his neighbour’s expression, the man smiled and nodded. “I’ll see you around,” and he left. Ryouma then remembered, “thank you,” but his neighbour was already too far to hear him and he sighed.

Ryouma rolled his eyes at himself and shut the door and began putting his groceries away.


End file.
